


Family Law

by Lucy Gillam (cereta)



Category: Force of Law - Jez Morrow
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereta/pseuds/Lucy%20Gillam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Law Castille is about to meet his future mother-in-law.  He is not nervous.  Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Law

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devilc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/gifts).



Lawrence Castille was on edge. He could admit this to himself. He was not _nervous_ , and he was certainly not (as Tom claimed) _grumpy_ , but he was on edge. As he accelerated the Lexus that Tom had insisted they rent at the airport ("We’re giving the neighbors plenty to talk about without showing up in a penis on wheels like the Lamborghini," he'd said), he admitted it: he was on edge.

It would help if Tom wasn't so goddamned amused by it. He turned to glare at his beloved (reminding himself that the man _was_ his beloved, dammit). This only provoked a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry," Tom said when Law's glare intensified. "I can't help it, really. I mean, Law Castille, who took on an armed gay-basher, who has no fear in the face of gang-bangers, terrorists, or lawyers, the man who _hunted Osama Bin Laden_ , afraid of meeting his future mother-in-law."

"I am not--" Law gritted his teeth. Protesting was only going to make Tom laugh again ( _This is why you fell in love with the little shit_ , he reminded himself), so he did what he always did when put on the defensive: went on the offensive. "Shouldn't _you_ be a little more nervous? You're bringing the guy who fucks you senseless on a nightly basis home to Mama."

Tom waved that away. "Just because I only came out to her a few months ago doesn't mean she's had any illusions about my purity," he said. "Besides, I'm coming home with a fabulously wealthy CEO who wants to make an honest man of me. I'm not worried."

Law knew that was less than 100% truthful. As far as he'd been able to tell from the aftermath of several phone calls, Jackie Russell had been nothing but kind and supportive, if apparently a bit bewildered by Tom's new relationship. Of course, _Tom_ was still occasionally a bit bewildered by it all, so that was okay. But still, he was bringing a man home for the first time in his life. Even for Law, that hadn't been the easiest thing in the world.

"Here's the exit," Tom said, and for the next few minutes, conversation was limited to directions. It probably would have been easier for Tom to drive, but he hadn't even suggested it. Further proof that he wasn't stupid.

The area of Cleveland Tom led him to was exactly what Law had expected: a working class neighborhood, somewhere between city and suburb, that had clearly seen better days. The houses had been built when something like Tom's old job might have supported a family of three if mom worked part-time, or maybe just before the up-and-coming white collar workers up and went elsewhere. Thus, they were still standing, but their concrete porch steps crumbled a bit and the gutters were rusty and drooping in places. Tom's old house was one of the smaller on his street, but the yard was tidy and well-kept. The driveway could definitely use repaving, though, something Law instinctively filed away for when he could do something about it without freaking Mrs. Russell out.

"Do I need to park on the street to leave room for your mom?" he asked as they approached.

"Just pull back as far as you can," Tom said. "Trust me, she'll be up in the morning before we will."

Law raised an eyebrow. Considering that he still sometimes kept Army hours, that was saying something.

They got their bags, and Tom used an old key that Law had observed on his key ring for months to open the back door's deadbolt. He also noticed that that Tom didn't have to unlock the doorknob's lock. Tom must have noticed him noticing, because he said defensively, "It doesn't work anymore. I keep offering to replace it, but she won't let me. Says the deadbolt is enough."

"You should just do it."

Tom snorted. "Yeah, not all of us see our loved one's wishes as so many daisies to be mowed down."

Law snorted back. "You do when it's important enough," he said as they entered the kitchen.

Tom closed the door behind them, pointedly turning the deadbolt. "The deadbolt holds and she locks the screen door when she's home and _fine_ , we'll replace the doorknob while we're here, but I'm blaming this on you."

Law grinned. "See?"

He followed Tom into a somewhat shabby but warm living room, decorated in styles that spanned decades. The couch looked as if it might have been original to the house, while the recliner with the knitting bag next to it seemed fairly new and comfortable. Law had half–figured out how he could take Tom while they were both sitting in it when he realized Tom was staring at him in horror.

"It was just a thought," he said with a grin, somewhat pleased that he was now that transparent -- not that he'd ever exactly hidden how he wanted to nail Tom on any convenient surface.

Tom just shook his head and started toward the hall that presumably led to the bedrooms. He stopped for a moment with a frown, then dropped his bag at the front of the hall. "I forgot to ask Mom where she wanted us to sleep."

"Think she'll make me take the couch?" He'd slept on worse. Not much worse, but worse.

"Nah, if she makes anyone sleep there, it'll be me." Tom looked almost wistful for a moment, and Law wondered if there was a story there. Maybe sleeping on the couch had been a special treat for him growing up, or something. One thing about falling in love at first sight: you almost never stopped learning new things about your lover.

Law dropped his bag by Tom's and was just reaching for the TV remote when he heard the back door's deadbolt turning again.

"Tom, sweetie?"

A middle-aged woman with improbably blonde hair and a brightly-colored sweater entered the room and immediately swept Tom into a tight hug.

"Oh, it's so good to see you!" she said.

"Hi, Mom," he replied a bit breathlessly.

They broke, and Law stepped forward, fairly certain he was about to get hugged as well (she had the look of a hugger), only to be stopped short when Mrs. Russell held up a hand.

"Oh, let me shower and change first," she said. "There's a new round of icky noses in the toddler room, and trust me, you do _not_ want to hug me until I've decontaminated. No telling what you'll catch! Ten minutes!" And she disappeared down the hall.

Law looked at Tom, who was grinning smugly again, and scowled. "How come she's not worried about you getting sick?"

Tom shrugged. "She's been doing daycare work my whole life. I've already had every kiddie virus known to man. I never get sick."

Law raised an eyebrow. That shouldn't have sounded like a challenge, but somehow, it did. "Really?"

"Immune system of a god," Tom assured him.

" _Really_?"

Tom just grinned back.

~~~

"…and there's plenty of hangers in the closet." Mrs. Russell ("Call me Jackie, for heaven's sake, we're almost family"), who had in fact turned out to be a hugger, turned around and gave Law another quick squeeze. "I'm just so pleased you're here."

Tom was still looking around his old room. "I still can't believe you bought a new bed just for us."

"Well, it's not like you two would have fit on your twin," Jackie said. She looked Law up and down, obviously as amused by his size as she was impressed. "Maybe I should have bought a king."

"Yeah, but I could have…" Tom frowned again, and Law knew it was because right now, of course, he _couldn't_ have helped, since his new job didn't start for three more weeks. Law's connections were pretty much infinite, but even he couldn't shift racing schedules. Law, of course, could have bought the bed, could have bought a whole new house, but, well, that was still in the negotiation stage. Which is to say that Law was humoring Tom's insistence that Law couldn't just buy Jackie a new house and set her up in luxury for the rest of her life. For now, anyway. Law had said he wouldn't carry Tom in a life of jobless leisure, but there was no reason his mother-in-law couldn't enjoy an early retirement, and Tom would see that sooner or later.

"And anyway," Jackie continued, "I've been meaning to get one for a while for when Louise and …" Her casual cheer slipped for the first time since she'd arrived home. "Well, for visitors."

There was no way Tom wasn't going to pick up on that. "Is something wrong with Aunt Louise? Uncle Jerry?" His guarded posture made it clear he expected the same thing Law did.

Jackie patted her son's shoulder. "They'll come around. You know how Jerry is." She paused. "He watches Bill O'Reilly," she said, as if that explained everything.

Law watched a multitude of emotions cross Tom's face in the twitch of a jaw muscle. For all the ugliness with Cynthia and the murmurings of some of Law's circle (the words "boy toy" had been said more than once), Tom had been sheltered from some of the worst parts of coming out. The things people said about him weren't that different from things they would have said if Law were engaged to a woman of Tom's background. Because calling Tom a pansy meant calling Law a pansy, and who was going to call Law a pansy? But family, well, that was one thing Law couldn't smooth over and for once was wise enough to not even try.

Tom finally just nodded and said, "So, Golden Palace for dinner?"

Jackie smiled. "I still have them on speed dial. Why don't you get some beers from the fridge while I call it in, and then we can all catch each other up." She turned to Law. "I'm just _dying_ to learn all about you."

Okay, maybe he was a _little_ nervous.

~~~

The food was pretty typical take-out, and the conversation mostly comfortable, if a little awkward in places. Jackie was never anything less than friendly, although Law could see where Tom got some of his (not entirely inaccurate) attitudes about rich people. Jackie let an eyeroll or two slip through, particularly when the topic of Wells came up, but Law got the feeling she had mentally slotted her son's fiancé in some "well, he _works_ , so that's okay" category. All in all, it was a nice evening, and Law even managed not to blush when she said good night and added that she would probably sleep like the _dead_ , she was so tired.

"So, that wasn't entirely horrible," Tom said with a yawn as he joined Law in the new bed. It still had the plastic cover on the mattress and crackled at every noise, like it did now when Tom shifted to straddle Law's hips. "Want me to make the horrible bits up to you?"

Tom leaned in to kiss him, body relaxed and obviously waiting for the inevitable moment when Law flipped them over to take control. When that didn't happen, he pulled back, frowning.

"Okay, I realize it's been a very long day, but that usually doesn't stop you from bending me over the nearest whatever."

Law shifted a bit, trying not to wince at the noise the plastic made. "Aren't you tired?"

Tom kissed him again. "Not _that_ tired." When Law still didn't respond (well, he _responded_ , he wasn't _dead_ , but he didn't move), he sat up. "Okay, what?"

Law shifted again, and the sound of the plastic finally broke him. "Your mother is right down the hall," he said.

Tom blinked, and his mouth twisted in what Law had come to recognize as his if-I-laugh-at-him-he-will-make-me-pay look. "Let me get this, no pun intended, straight," he said. "We've had sex on your friend's lawn, sex in your office, in your plane, in your car, in the janitor's closet at that really boring reception, and at _your_ parents' houses, all _three_ of them, but you can't have sex in my mom's house?"

Law was not about to say that she was right down the hall and the mattress _made noise_ , so he said nothing.

"Okay," said Tom, leaning back down to kiss Law again. "If you insist." He pulled down the collar of Law's T-shirt to bite his collarbone, just hard enough to sting. "We don't have to do anything." He went on to make his words a complete lie by pulling Law's shirt up as far as he could without Law's cooperation, and slowly moving his mouth down Law's body.

Law did his best to keep still as Tom licked and nipped his way down. He even held completely still when Tom tried to pull his boxers down. Tom looked up at him and shook his head as if to say he would not be stopped, and slowly, carefully worked his hands under Law's ass, and then worked his boxers down with exaggerated care, obviously struggling not to laugh at every sound of that stupid plastic.

Law clenched his jaw to avoid speaking. Or moaning. At this point, it was a matter of principle. Or something like that. The fact that principle meant he got to feel Tom licking his cock, well, that was just a bonus. It wasn't something he got to feel often, through no one's fault but his own; he just liked fucking Tom so much that he seldom had the patience to let Tom blow him.

Which, he reflected as Tom took just the head of his cock into his mouth, was kind of a shame, because damn, when Tom set his mind to it, he really could do things with his tongue, which was -- yes, right _there_ \-- so good that it took Law a few minutes to notice that Tom wasn't taking him any deeper, and still another minute to realize that the little shit was doing it _on purpose_ , trying to make him move. Which he was not going to do. _Fuck_.

"Tom," he said through gritted teeth, "if you ever want to drive the Lamborghini again in your _life_ …" he cut off with a hiss when Tom laughed around his cock and _shit_ he had to remember that move for later, but not now when Tom was swallowing him in one smooth move. And finally given the choice between moving and just _letting go_ , he chose the better part of valor, thrusting up once and coming hard in one blinding moment.

As Tom settled in beside him, making that damned plastic talk again, Law said somewhat breathlessly, "I would like to note for the record that I did not make any noise."

"You didn't," Tom agreed.

"Not a sound."

"Not one. By the way," Tom said, propping up on an elbow, "my mom wears ear plugs every night. My dad snored, and she just got used to wearing them and never stopped."

Law blinked up at his beloved, who was grinning smugly. Oh, that would not do at all. "Oh, really?" he asked mildly.

It was proof that Tom was no idiot that his grin faltered a bit, and he swallowed nervously. "Well, I'm pretty sure she still does, anyway. She might have stopped since--" The rest of his words were cut off by an "oof" as Law turned them both over and landed on him with his full weight. The plastic not only crackled, but squeaked as the new sheet slipped over it.

Tom had many, many more expressions that night, but smug wasn't one of them.

~~~

"This is nice," Jackie said for the third time since they had arrived at the steakhouse. It sounded less like nervous chatter and more like genuine appreciation from someone who probably wasn't treated to a nice dinner out very often. It was a refreshing change from Tom, who frequently grumbled that he'd rather eat some place that didn't require five forks, and wasn't there a burger on the menu? Although even Tom couldn't complain about this place, with its red walls and casual décor, where Jackie fit right in wearing her dressiest sweater and slacks, and neither of the men had to wear ties, and where the menu was almost completely recognizable.

The subject of Tom's upcoming job got them through appetizers and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. When Law ordered a Cabernet with dinner, he was pleasantly surprised that Jackie broke in to suggest a Pinot Noir instead.

"Since when are you a wine expert?" Tom asked after the waiter was gone. He neatly dodged Law's kick under the table, then let out an "ow!" that suggested he had failed to dodge his mother's.

"I used to be, before you were born. Your father never much cared for it, though, and after he left, it seemed like a waste to open a bottle just for me. But I used to enjoy it quite a bit." She had a slightly wistful expression for a moment, and Tom fidgeted a bit. Earlier today when the inevitable embarrassing picture albums had been dragged out, it had been painfully obvious to Law that the blond Mr. Russell was almost certainly not Tom's father. He hadn't brought the subject up, though. One secret at a time, Law supposed.

"If you'll excuse me," Tom said, gesturing vaguely towards a corner where the bathrooms might or might not be located. When he was gone, Jackie turned her smile to Law, who managed not to shift in his seat. The words "alone at last" couldn't have been clearer on Jackie's face if she'd actually said them.

"You've been good for him," she said, getting right to the point.

"I like to think so," Law replied.

"I have to admit," Jackie said, taking a sip of the wine, "I had almost given up hope of ever getting that phone call." Which phone call she meant was obvious to both of them. "I think I have you to thank for that."

"Maybe," honesty compelled Law to say. "I think he might have gotten around to it sooner or later." The idea that Tom wouldn't have found someone, or more to the point, that someone else wouldn't have found Tom, seemed incomprehensible to Law. The fact that in some twisted way, he had his idiot cousin to thank for keeping Tom out of someone else's arms while Law was in Afghanistan sometimes gave him cold sweats.

Jackie nodded. "He says you're an asshole," she said pleasantly. Law was very proud that he didn't do a spit-take with the very nice Pinot. "He also says that you love him very much."

"He's right on both counts." Law straightened his entrée fork. "The asshole thing is…" He took a deep breath, trying to think of what to say.

Jackie shook her head. "Oh, I'm not worried. Of all the things I ever worried about with Tom, taking crap was never one of them."

No, it really wasn't. Law realized he was probably grinning like a lovesick fool, but for the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Oh, and Law?" Jackie added with an indulgent smile. "You can replace the doorknob tomorrow if you really want to."

That _did_ make Law choke on his wine, just a little, and of course, Tom _would_ choose that moment to come back to the table. He looked from Jackie to Law and back again.

"Oh, God, what?" he asked.

Jackie waved him into his seat. "Sit down, honey, the waiter's coming back."

Tom did as he was told, catching Law's eye again. Any doubts Law had about his own expression were erased by Tom's small smile. Lovesick fool. And fuck anyone who didn't like it.

~~~

Lawrence Castille was not sick. His nose might have substances coming from it that were colors that should not be found in nature, and his voice might sound like something that should be warning ships away from the harbor, but he was _not_ sick.

"If you say I told you so," he warned Tom as he accepted a bowl of chicken soup that had been sent up from the local deli, "I will kick your ass." Tom _had_ told him so, but Jackie had been running late as they were heading out the door to fly home, and one hug could not _possibly_ have wreaked this devastation.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tom said, handing him crackers. He looked properly sympathetic for about ten seconds, then said, "Look at it this way, could have been coxsackivirus." Law wanted to accuse him of making that up, but Tom continued, "You have no idea how fun it was to be sent home from third grade for that one. I'm pretty sure I was still getting shit for that in high school." He lifted the chenille throw Law had over his lap and settled in next to him, casually reaching for the remote.

Law took a few swallows of soup, then looked at Tom. "Immune system of a god, huh?"

"Yep."

Law took the remote back, placed it well out of Tom's reach, and kissed him. "Good."


End file.
